


What has a million eyes, ten thousand mouths, and is done with Philemon's shit?

by dragoneyes



Series: Amala Preschool series [1]
Category: Persona 2, Persona 3, Persona 4, Persona 5, Persona Series, Persona | Revelations Persona
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Children, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gore, M/M, Old Married Couple, Philemon has a midlife crisis, Tentacles, Thirsting for your husband, Timelines, Vore, a whole lot of other persona users are mentioned and are around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26308885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragoneyes/pseuds/dragoneyes
Summary: There was something specifically offensive about the cheery decorations, the bright pinks and yellows of the sign welcoming the children back to a new year at the Amala Preschool.The last time he had checked, it was no-where near spring on this half of Earth, and this was certainly not a place that had existed before, not with the way every wall was gleaming with Philemon's influence and the way even the ground was thrumming with his power.
Relationships: Nyarlathotep (Shin Megami Tensei)/Philemon (Persona)
Series: Amala Preschool series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975081
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	What has a million eyes, ten thousand mouths, and is done with Philemon's shit?

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy, where do I even start...  
> Hello, hi! It is I! The person who keeps writing unplanned stuff because discord enables her! Look at me entering yet another tiny-ass ship because Discord Shananigans!
> 
> Also wow, this is the weirdest combination of tags I have ever used for a fic.  
> Granted, I think I've slightly over-tagged, but I'd rather be safe than sorry, considering how many times I had to leash _certain characters_ *pointed stare* to keep the rating in check.  
> I personally don't feel the fic warrants a higher rating, in spite of the tags, but let me know if you think I should bump it up.  
> I'll also write more detailed explanations about the tags in the end notes, as per my usual.
> 
> Finally, regarding spoilers: there are some references to P5 shenanigans, since Lavenza is around; there are also _major spoilers_ for the ending of P2:IS.

Nyarlathotep stared at the building in front of him with the kind of contempt he usually only reserved for a particular type of eyesore, his metaphysical limbs twitching and curling with the need to rip it down brick by brick.

There was something specifically offensive about the cheery decorations, the bright pinks and yellows of the sign welcoming the children back to a new year at the Amala Preschool.

The last time he had checked, it was no-where near spring on this half of Earth, and this was certainly not a place that had existed before, not with the way every wall was gleaming with Philemon's influence and the way even the ground was thrumming with his power.

For once, the Crawling Chaos had no idea what was passing through his counterpart's mind, and, while on some level the thought of it exhilarated him, on another, more fundamental and intimate level, it filled him with spite.

Whatever this experiment of Philemon's was supposed to be for, he had felt no need to inform him of his reasons.

Normally Nyarlathotep would accept it as just an unspoken part of their mutual entertainment.

Normally, that was, but there was nothing normal about both the current situation and the way his counterpart had behaved the last time they spoke to one another.

It frustrated him, because on one hand it filled him with the desire to wrap his barbed limbs around Philemon's vessel, to let his mouths sink into its flesh and eat it piece by piece; on the other hand, the majority of his metaphysical body was churning and twisting at the sheer wrongness that witnessing his counterpart losing his mind - even for only a short moment - had been.

He supposed the only solution for now was to play nice and indulge the other's demands. Until he had gathered more information, that was.

Out of pure pettiness he decided to shift his form to something smaller, something that matched Philemon's vessel in shape - down to that ridiculous mask of is - but with the colors all swapped around to give it a more personal touch.

It would probably do nothing to shake his counterpart, but at least it was going to give Nyarlathotep some satisfaction when Philemon's underlings would inevitably be rattled by it.

******

"Does he have any memories?"

He was being watched by a wide, startled eye, its twin hidden behind dark bangs, as the child in front of him stared up at Nyarlathotep with his mouth slightly parted and his small hands clutched against his chest.

At some point during the week the Crawling Chaos had grown bored with distressing his counterpart's underlings, and he had decided to take a more comfortable form, one with wings, enough limbs to satisfy his needs, and the familiar weight of his crown resting on top of his head.

"No," Philemon replied, picking up The Narcoleptic One from where he had fallen asleep on a bench, and tucking him against his chest. "None of those who met us remember, but there might be some residual impressions that managed to filter through."

Yes, sometimes strongly imprinted feelings kept dwelling in the collective unconscious even when their origin was erased from existence, only to latch again to the closest version of the source human available.

The Flower Whisperer was still staring up at him as if Nyarlathotep were about to wrap his tentacles around his tiny frame and gobble him up for breakfast. It made an irritated sound escape his head mouth, which only seemed to put the hatchling even more on edge.

Next to one of his peripheral eyes, Philemon was watching them with the kind of unbothered quietness that made him want to poke at it until some kind of reaction slipped through. The Crawling Chaos opened his head mouth with the intention of reminding his counterpart what he thought about this whole exercise in domesticity, when something hard and insistent clenched down on one of his suckers.

It didn't exactly hurt, but the sensation was so unexpected that his attention was diverted to its cause: right there, with his thin arms wrapped around one of his tentacles - the closest one to The Flower Whisperer - and little legs swinging in the air, The Little Devil was trying his best to maul Nyarlathotep's thick skin with the meager power of his baby teeth. His brown hair was in disarray, and his eyes were wide in distress at having to face such a bigger foe, but also filled with the determination to keep his friend safe.

Residual impressions indeed.

"Tacchi!" The Flower Whisperer hissed, alarmed at seeing the other hatchling dangling from the twisting limb. He took a few steps closer, only to freeze again when Nyarlathotep turned his eyes back towards him.

Giving a little shake with his tentacle and finding that The Little Devil had no intention of letting go, the Crawling Chaos mentally sighed and resisted the urge to sink his featureless face into his humanoid hands.

"The things I have to do to indulge you," he growled under his breath, watching with despondency as Philemon's gaze sparkled with repressed energy and amusement alike.

"I _am_ very grateful for it," his counterpart hummed, fixing the sleeping hatchling still resting in his arms so that his small head was tucked against his neck.

"I'm going to rip that vessel of yours to shreds," Nyarlathotep promised, voice sweet and amiable. It would do no good, as a vessel was a vessel and nothing more, but it would certainly give him some satisfaction to sink his barbed limbs into it.

The look Philemon gave him at his threat was the most sickeningly fond expression the Crawling Chaos had seen on his face in a long while - decades and decades before they even started their little bet.

"Maybe another time," his counterpart offered, before his smile turned just a little shaper. "In the meantime, have fun with the children."

Nyarlathotep watched him go, one unhurried step at a time, leaving him to deal with the two remaining hatchlings on his own.

Far into the depth of the collective unconscious, the rest of his body gave a delirious and starved growl.

******

"You've something over there," Philemon was eyeing him with his mouth pressed into a flat line. It was not out of disapproval, but rather because he seemed to be having a hard time controlling his vessel's automatic response to smile. One of his slender hands was pointing at the thin legs dangling at either sides of Nyarlathotep's neck and the hatchling attached to them, currently sitting on his shoulders.

"I'm aware," the Crawling Chaos replied, smothering the instinct to sigh in frustration. "He seems to be even more attuned to sneaking around than The Tiny Thieves are."

One of The Truth Seeker's arms was wrapped around his head to keep himself stable, thin fingers clutching the location that on a normal human would have hosted an eyeball, but that on his own face was just smooth skin.

With a curious hum, his counterpart moved closer and pulled himself on the tips of his feet to take a better look at the hatchling. His hands came to rest on Nyarlathotep's humanoid chest and the latter automatically wrapped a tentacle around his waist to keep him steady.

That ridiculous butterfly mask of his almost poked him in his other non-existing head eye.

"Are you having fun, Naoya?" Philemon asked, receiving a wide grin in return.

"Yeah!" the hatchling confirmed, pushing back the too-big crown resting on his head, to properly look at his interlocutor. He wobbled a bit in his enthusiasm and the Crawling Chaos had to press the tip of a tentacle against his tiny back, before he could tumble down.

"I don't understand his fascination with my crown," Nyarlathotep let a hint of annoyance enter his voice. "This is the third time that he has managed to do this without my notice."

Philemon's mouth pressed in a tighter line at that admission, evidently finding his counterpart's frustration entertaining.

"It's easy!" The Truth Seeker piped up, blunt and unashamed. "Nyarla-sensei always gets distracted when Philemon-sensei is around."

The Crawling Chaos would have chucked the child at the closest wall if not for the muffled giggle that his words ripped out of his counterpart's throat.

******

"Your admirer is here," Nyarlathotep twisted the tip of his tentacle to point at the hatchling-shaped underling currently peering at them from the door. The expression on her face kept oscillating between wide-eyed wonder - when her gaze was aimed at Philemon - and blatant distrust - when her gaze was aimed at him.

"Hello, Lavenza," his counterpart greeted her without missing a beat, fingers never leaving the flexible limb he had been playing with for the better part of the last hour: for some reason, today he seemed entertained by teasing Nyarlathotep's peripheral mouths, tugging at his fangs and poking at his tongues, until he managed to activate their defense response, and they snapped closed in an automatic attempt to chomp his hands off.

"Hello, Master Philemon," The Tiny Underling greeted back, hesitating only for a moment before moving closer. "I wanted to inquire if I may be of any assistance."

She looked tense - which was not new - her stance just a little more rigid than normal: she had never been good at hiding her discomfort at being in his presence. The Crawling Chaos wasn't quite sure if it was because of the experiences in her timeline making her develop a bit of paranoia, or if she was like this by nature.

He, regardless, turned a wide grin full of fangs in her directions.

Her lips pursed into a tight frown before opening her mouth with the kind of determination Nyarlathotep had seen only on offended chihuahuas before, but her outrage fizzled out when Philemon reached out to give her a pat on the head. Immediately all her attention was drawn away from the silent dispute, as she peered up at him with wide, starstruck eyes.

"I don't need anything right now," he let her know, giving her another little pat that made her blush at the attention. "Why don't you go see if the others need help with the children instead?"

"Yes," Nyarlathotep concurred, grin sharper on his face while he pulled back the tentacle that his counterpart had abandoned in favor of focusing on his hatchling-shaped underling. "You never know when something might happen to them: better have as many eyes as possible to keep track of their well-being."

As expected, The Tiny Underling's face sharply turned in his direction at his remark. The Crawling Chaos returned it with a little cheery wave of his humanoid hand.

"I shall allow you to harm none of the children!" she exclaimed, suddenly filled with purpose. "You...you...you scoundrel!"

Her tiny hands were balled in trembling fists at her sides, and her round face had puffed up in outrage at what she perceived he was implying. From his peripheral eyes, he watched his counterpart peer at them with curiosity but make no move to intervene.

"Oh? Is that so?" Nyarlathotep hummed, poking at her little foot with a tentacle to watch her jump back with a barely-suppressed squeak.

"And. What. Would. You. Do. Hum?" he underlined each word with a poke, alternating between limbs to catch her off guard.

It took her a few attempts to catch her feet again without risking tumbling down, but her expression was all the more determined when she addressed him again, "we managed to defeat the God of Control, we would defeat you as well!"

Oh?

_Oh?_

_**Ő̠H͈͙̞͈́̈͆̓?̹̺̝͔̆̀ͣ̊**_

In the blink of a thought the Crawling Chaos hovered on her, his body slipping through reality as easily as taking a breath. He wrapped his clawed fingers around her tiny - **b͎̥̯ͮͅr̜̫̩̘̓E̩͇͉ͦa̙͉̰̓̔K̹̱̄̑A̦̬ͩ́̊b͚͒͗̃L̰̇̇͆̈́e͎̾̓̐ͯ** \- wrists and pinned them against her slim shoulders, oversized hands wrapped around them to keep her from moving, and sharp thumbs pointing at her neck.

"Do _not c̜ͤȯ̟M͙ͯp̯ͨA̙͐_ _ **Ṙ̙ḙ̔ m̖̜̿̀Ė̱̖ͣ t̳͆̂ͅO̭ͣͭͅ T͉͕̹͆͌̀h̗͚̟̐ͥ̽Ä̞̰̪̔ͨŤ̳͙̮͊̈́ F̹͎̮̲ͤ͛͛ͮḬ̘̭̭̐̀̊̎L͕̫̪̱ͨͤͦ̔ṫ͙̝͖͓̀ͯ̚H͉̣̖̽͆̇ͬͅ!͙͎̖̬̏͒̓̚**_ " his voice was a roar that shook all planes of existence, as eye, upon eye, upon eye opened on his blank, smooth face and down his humanoid body in a multitude of bleeding wounds, pupils all fixated on the pitiful little bird shaking under his hold. His tentacles encircled them, mouths wide and fangs gleaming, ready to rip and devour and _**m̲̓a̘͌K͉ͤE̖ͮ h̤́Ë̙́r͎̜̽̂ É̘̻̈́A̠͈̍̃t̙̹ͤͩ h͓̤ͤ̊ë̹͖͈̂̔R̮͚̯͋ͭ̈ o͖̳̅̔̈́ͅW̞͚͛ͬ̔ͅN̮̻̝̋͆͆ W̳̱͎̳ͭ̔ͨ̓Ô̖͍̘̤̔̈́ͭr͙̠̠̥͗ͦ͂̒-̲̹̯̩ͣ̋̈̇-̣͚̪̰͗̈̓̈́!̜͈̦̗͌ͮ̀̍**_

Slim hands covered his own, carefully prying them away from their steely hold, and gentle sparks of electricity ran through his skin until a few of his eyes shifted to peer at his counterpart's face: as usual, his expression remained placid, not giving any sign of being bothered by the outburst he had just witnessed.

He was standing behind The Tiny Underling, thumbs absently rubbing the back of the fingers held in his hands, while he coaxed them into accepting the comforting energy he was freely giving.

Instinctively, one of Nyarlathotep's tentacles slithered through the floor to wrap around Philemon's leg, suckers holding tight and refusing to let go.

Slowly, one by one, his eyes receded back into smooth flesh, until only half a dozen remaining adorning his head.

His counterpart seemed pleased at the sight, and the corners of his mouth tilted up before he spoke, voice even and carefully-enunciated, "she didn't mean it as an insult," - frustrating, but true - "she's the youngest of the Velvet Room's residents, and she has been in a uniquely stressful situation for a while," - being split in half, Nyarlathotep knew that as well - "She also has never met either of us before: everything she knows, she heard from the others. I would guess her assumptions are just still a bit inaccurate."

The Crawling Chaos eyed the hatchling-shaped underling at his feet and considered the situation: with the way Philemon had set up this whole experiment, the hatchlings had no memory of what they did - or would do - in their timelines, but his underlings remembered everything that had happened up to the point in which they were no longer needed by their charges.

The Tiny Underling had been ripped apart by the particular threat - _**f̝ͣi̘͎̒̊L͎͖̹̰̃̎̂̊h̲͓͚̙͛͌̆ͨT͇̥ͦ̇**_ \- that The Tiny Trickster had to face, so paranoia was an expected result.

Still, there was no reason to be insulting.

Under their extended arms, she was still staring up at them, wide-eyed and frozen in place by the leftover sensation of the Crawling Chaos's malice clinging to her skin. It made a pleased smile grow on his face.

A renewed burst of electricity licking his flesh diverted his attention back on his counterpart to find that Philemon's hold on his hands had shifted, the tips of his second and third fingers now insistently digging into his palms.

Nyarlathotep recognized the familiar demand and let his skin split open under them into two smaller mouths. The fangs were duller than the ones adorning his writhing limbs, but he used them anyways to nip and nibble at the fingers now scratching his insides.

It didn't matter that he couldn't actually harm Philemon even if he bit harder down - his vessel's state having no bearing on his actual health - the knowledge that he could rip his fingers off and gobble them down, made a primordial part of him hum in approval and contentment.

With a sated sound rumbling deep into his metaphysical body, he let a tongue twist out and wrap around one slim wrist, taking in the subtle taste of ozone where the other's power lingered closer to his vessel's skin.

"Do you know why Nyarlathotep was upset by your remark?" his counterpart had turned his gaze downward to address The Tiny Underling once again. She was peering up at them both, eyes still wide, but not trembling anymore, and her mouth was open in uncertainty. She frowned and shook her head when no answer came ready to her mind.

Philemon hummed as he continued, "do you know what parts of humanity he incarnates?"

After receiving a small nod, he prompted gently, "is there any control involved in them?"

Control.

Just the thought of it made the Crawling Chaos snarl.

Not only that, that _**F̤̟͕͎̃i̻̬͎̒l͕͕̓̉T̳̄̊̍H̤̒́ͬ̈**_ attempted to establish the most abhorrent mix of control and apathy that he had ever seen anyone concoct. It was an insult both to him and his counterpart.

The Tiny Trickster did good by shooting it in the head - although the Crawling Chaos bemoaned just a bit not being able to wrap his limbs around it _ȧ͈ṇ̿D̩ͬ r̜͐i̦͒_ _ **P̠̳̆̊ Ï͎͔̌t͇̬͆̏ T͔̲̝̊̿͌O̮̖͓͆ͧ̀ s̩̻̜͂ͩͪH̪̥̭ͥ̒̇Ŕ͚̲̱̺̉̑̚ẽ͈͔͓̫ͫ͗̓D̻̞̮̯̒̍ͦͥS͍̯͉̱̃͗̎ͣ!̦͕̞̬̿̀̒͗**_

Maybe he should attempt to make the hatchling his own.

"Oh!" the startled exclamation from The Tiny Underling interrupted that line of thought: she was now looking at him with wide eyes once again, but her expression didn't seem as much one of wariness as embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Master Nyarlathotep," she said, all prim and proper in that way that made her look like she was trying to base her behavior off The Reliable Underling's. "It was not my intention to be insulting."

She paused, frowning, before her expression became filled with renewed determination, "but I shall not allow you to mistreat the children!"

Mood mostly restored by his counterpart's attentions, the Crawling Chaos peered down at her with all of his six head eyes. Without making a sound, he poked her foot with one of his limbs and mentally cackled when she scurried off with a startled yelp.

******

"Is that normal?" Nyarlathotep watched as his counterpart scooped up The Narcoleptic One from where he had fallen asleep under a table, thumb tucked into his mouth. He didn't even acknowledge being manhandled, and he remained deep in his slumber even as he was propped against the other's chest.

"I wasn't quite sure," Philemon admitted after a moment of consideration,"so I asked Elizabeth about it, since she knows him the best. She said it's normal for him."

The Crawling Chaos eyed the hatchling now clinging to his counterpart's turtleneck with his free hand: he really was rather small, even compared to the others, and he could easily fit in one of his peripheral mouths if he felt inclined to take a nibble out of him.

"No eating the children," his counterpart sent an amused glance his way, catching the stray thought. He didn't look very worried that Nyarlathotep might go through with it, which was understandable, because there really was no risk of that, all things considered.

"They don't look like much of a snack, anyways," the Crawling Chaos dryly pointed out: they were all limbs and no flesh, there would be no pleasure in sinking his fangs into them, as small and easy to break as they were.

"I'm sure they don't to you," Philemon amiably agreed, lips quirking up as he stepped closer.

Nyarlathotep peered at him and the way his essence gave a short pulse - close to his vessel's skin - in an obvious attempt at teasing him, and he let one his tentacles wrap around his waist to give an equally taunting nip at his side.

"I'd much rather eat you," he rumbled in return, feeling his mouths water a little at the mere thought. The look on his counterpart's face only grew more amused, and he shuffled the hatchling a bit so that he could keep him propped against his chest with just one arm.

Slowly his newly-freed hand reached for Nyarlathotep's face, tracing with meticulous attention every one of his fangs with a thumb. When he was done, and he had the Crawling Chaos's complete attention, he cupped his counterpart's face and hummed a quiet, "Maybe another time," before sinking his nails into smooth skin and sending a spark of electricity through the flesh under his fingertips.

It earned him a low growl, and the tentacle around his waist loosed its grip on him for just a moment. Philemon took advantage of it to take a graceful step out of its hold and flashed a satisfied smirk, before taking his leave without any further word.

The Crawling Chaos watched him go, eyes tracking his every step, metaphysical body growling in hunger, and tentacles twitching with the need to wrap around his counterpart again and never let go.

******

"Haru-chan!" The Flower Whisperer hastily not-shouted, trying to pull her away into a more secure area of the room. They'd been going around both adults and hatchlings alike, distributing the flowers that they helped The Reliable Underling grow, but when only Nyarlathotep was left without a bundle of flowers of his own, they'd found themselves in disagreement on what to do next.

The Flower Whisperer still seemed to be suffering from the residual emotions from the other timeline - his suspicion and distress evident in the way he was tugging his friend's sleeve.

FLOOF, however, was not to be deterred by his worry, and she simply pulled herself free in order to march in his direction, her voluminous hair bouncing with each purposeful step.

"For Nyarla-sensei!" she smiled once she was close enough, offering the bundle of flowers she had with her, red and yellow and wrapped in a bright blue paper that clashed more than a bit with the pink dress she was wearing.

Absently, the Crawling Chaos watched his counterpart's underlings tense at the interaction - the bumbling one and the tiny one being in charge of guarding the hatchlings right now - and he paused to consider what to do next.

He had no interest in flowers.

He could, hypothetically, ignore her and go search - once again - for his counterpart and demand - once again - to be given an actual answer as to why he was so invested in this experiment of his.

He could also, hypothetically, wrap his oversized humanoid hand around the flowers and crush them in his claws to watch the friendly smile vanish from the hatchling standing at his feet.

Slowly, making sure to catch the underlings' gazes with several of his eyes, just to watch them squirm, he reached out to take the small bundle of flowers from the hatchling's hand.

FLOOF beamed up at him and promised to give him more whenever they grew again, and then she was off to rejoin her friends, grabbing The Flower Whisperer and dragging him along as she passed by him.

Once the two underlings seemed to have calmed down and turned their attention back to the consortium of hatchlings scurrying about, the Crawling Chaos let his feelers delicately wrap around FLOOF's gift and sent them through the layers of reality to find a better recipient for it.

When several hours later Nyarlathotep's eyes laid on his counterpart and the bundle of red and yellow flowers bound to the band keeping his ponytail in place, it made the appearance of that squishable vessel of his a little more bearable to look at.

******

"You've something over there," Philemon noted, tone amused as he eyed his counterpart's predicament. He was standing next to The Tiny Detective as she squinted in concentration at a piece of paper on the hatchling-sized table in front of her.

Nyarlathotep moved closer to find that what had caught her focus so thoroughly was a series of scribbles that either meant she had found one of The Tiny Thieves' "heist plans", or they had issued her a challenge of some kind. He wasn't entirely sure which one of the two it was supposed to be, because whatever was going on in that drawing, it certainly didn't look like anything that made sense whatsoever.

"I'm aware," he finally replied, bringing his attention back to his counterpart. The fact that he was beginning to get used to The Truth Seeker always somehow ending up sitting on his shoulders should make him more alarmed than he actually felt, but at this point, he was starting to care less and less.

"Are you having fun, Naoya?" the tilt of Philemon's mouth became even more entertained at his answer, and Nyarlathotep couldn't help but send one of his tentacles to give a nip at one of his hands. His counterpart took the gesture in stride and gave the suckers further down its length a scratch, sharp nails digging into the flesh, just this side of drawing blood in exactly the way that Nyarlathotep preferred it.

"Yeah!" The Truth Seeker nodded enthusiastically, "I went flying with Nyarla-sensei!"

This hatchling truly had no filter on his mouth, and the Crawling Chaos gave a poke to his side with the tip of a tentacle, while he blandly expanded on those claims.

"I was stretching my wings, and he had already stated claim on my shoulders."

Philemon was peering at him again with that expression that made him want to grab him and sink his fangs into his vessel until he could taste the storm-worth of lightnings stuffed inside it.

Nyarlathotep refused to show any of that - any of his counterpart's true essence - to beings other than himself, and so he just reached out with a free limb and gave a poke to Philemon's side as well.

******

"She said no!"

Commotions weren't exactly rare with these many hatchlings around: there was always someone screaming, someone accusing somebody else of stealing their crayons, and someone just having no proper control over the volume of their outer voice.

"She doesn't wanna come!"

This, however, seemed new.

Blinking open all his available eyes, Nyarlathotep let his limbs phase through the walls in search of the source of the sudden racket. The sound came from outside, he considered while he made his way through the corridors to reach the front door, and he knew for a fact that all hatchlings should have not been in the garden at this time. He had seen The Bumbling Underling escorting them back inside, but he must have missed a few without realizing it.

With no hurry he stepped out of the building, letting his tentacles guide him towards the garden's back entrance: it seemed as though someone had either forgotten to lock the gate or it had been forced open.

The Crew of Merry Friends had been evidently caught while playing outside of adult supervision by the man standing before them with a friendly smile plastered on his face that reeked of deceit.

Nyarlathotep knew what this man intentions were, he did not need to even wonder about it, as it seeped out of him in repugnant and sludge-like waves which the Crawling Chaos recognized on a fundamental level as something belonging to **h͍̘̟̰͛́̅́i̝̩̪̤͒͑̓͌s͎̣̬͔͛͌̑̓ d͍̜̜͙ͭ́̊ͩo̠͓̪̎̔͊͗ͅm͙̜͉̺̿̆͋͋a̦̠̖̮ͭ̐̉ͪi̻̪̤̪ͭ̂̽̄ñ̩̠̫̲ͭ̃ͦ**.

This human here. The kinds of humans like this one right here were what made him so certain that humanity would reach its downfall without fail.

A series of growls left his mouths, one after another, as he envisioned wrapping his tentacles around that squishy body and squeeze until it no longer resembled a person anymore: after all, with the kind of malice that the man seemed to arbor, he would be only making him a favor, by making his outside match his rotten inside.

"It's just for five minutes," the man was saying at the Crew of Merry Friends, pleasant smile on his face as he tried to look meek and harmless. "She said she wanted to buy a present for her sensei, right? There is a nice shop right behind that corner over there. We'll be back in no time."

He seemed to be aiming for Let's Think Positive, his gaze going to her over and over again even as he tried to convince the hatchlings of his good intentions, and Nyarlathotep must not have been the only one to notice, because The Little Devil took a step closer to her, toy sword clenched in his tiny hand.

"She told that to _us_! You were listening in on us!" Dance Dance Revolution cried back, round face scrunched up into a glare.

"I was just passing by and happened to hear," the man offered without hesitation. "Since you all seem like such sweet children, I wanted to help out."

Nyarlathotep's tentacles slithered towards the scene as more and more mouths opened along their length. He would not eat this man, as the mere idea of it was foul at best, but he considered reaching with his barbed limbs to sink them into his mouth, curling them up just enough to feel the soft flesh of his brain give out, as he pushed those useless eyes out of their sockets from inside the man's skull.

_Hum..._

Philemon would be disappointed if he permanently scarred the hatchlings because he could not keep his urges in check.

"But she said she doesn't wanna, and you keep insisting!" Screaming Bellbird was the one to protest this time. It seemed to prompt The Little Devil to put himself even more in the man's path, toy sword clutched in both hands between them as if that could be of any use to stop him.

The man frowned, smile tilting downward a bit and becoming more strained on his face.

"Kid, I'm just trying to be nice here," he said, taking a step closer, his patience evidently having run out.

The Little Devil didn't move, face determined in the same way he was when he tried his best at chomping Nyarlathotep's tentacles off. A low sound of annoyance rumbled through his limbs at seeing the same expression turned at that sad excuse of a human being.

Slowly the Crawling Chaos peeled away the layer of deception he kept on when interacting with the hatchlings' parents, and he stepped closer.

_**N̬ͬi̜̮͊̇c̜͔͉̱ͮ̂ͣ̃e̙̪͈̦̍ͥ͗ͣ?͈̣͂͂**_

He purred directly into the man's mind, watching with satisfaction as his head whipped up to look directly at him. His face drained of all blood at the sight of barbed limbs, unblinking eyes and rows and rows of sharp teeth.

Nyarlathotep made sure to flash him a grin with all sixteen of his available mouths, as he placed himself behind The Crew of Merry Friends. The hatchlings didn't seem to notice, which was all the better, because he had no intention to cause them undue damage for now.

_**V̤͔̩͔ͧ͒̿̅e̻̩̺̜̍̅̐̋r̘̼̱̾̋ͣy̹̻̱ͨ̽̚ w͎̙͋̓e͈͓̓ͫḻ̉l͕͐.͔͑**_

_**I̻͒'͍͐l̬͂l̝ͭ b͙̩̋ͨe̮̜̓̓ n̻̖ͫ͗i͖̘̜͛ͦ͊c̞̣̮̔̌̉ĕ̻̯̯̄̆ t̹͔͕͖̿͗̓̈ȍ̝͚͚̠͒ͨ̚o̘̲̤ͭ͐ͫ͂ͅ.̮͓̳̣͒̐̍̓**_

With the claw of a single finger, the Crawling Chaos pierced his own skin where his right head eyes should have been and dragged it down to peel it apart.

His insides were not something that humankind was meant to understand - they were too feeble to process what was going on so many different layers of reality at the same time - and so he watched with satisfaction as this trespasser's face became slack, pupils wide and body trembling while his mind was blasted over and over with things it could not make head or tail of.

By the time Nyarlathotep pushed his skin back together, letting it turn once again smooth and unblemished, the man was stumbling back towards the gate, limbs barely keeping him up as he made his escape.

He ran away into the arms of his new future of eternal nightmares and insanity.

The Crawling Chaos let out a pleased hum deep into the collective unconscious, and he was answered by a spark of curiosity when it was intercepted by his counterpart.

 _Mind your own business_ , he sent back, before closing his mind off and turning his attention back on the hatchlings: they were still to notice his presence, busy as they were cheering for The Little Devil as if he'd been the one to scare their enemy off. Nyarlathotep watched him shuffle awkwardly at all that praise, face red in embarrassment but corners of the mouth turned up in clear appreciation.

Again he hummed - this time making sure to keep the sound only for himself - and he slowly let one of his tentacles move closer, until it was hovering above the cluster of hatchlings.

_Tap tap._

The Little Devil almost squealed in surprise when he was patted on the head twice, swirling around in a flail of small limbs to stare at the new potential threat, toy sword raised and eyes wide with alarm. It took him a moment to realize whom the molesting appendage belonged to, and his face scrunched up into a squint.

The Crawling Chaos watched as his tiny brain went over that new information and worked to decide what to do with it: The Little Devil was not stupid and the light frown on his face was sure to become some form of realization if he let his thoughts stew for too long, so Narlyathotep tapped him again on the head, this time making sure to ruffle his hair.

It had the expected result, as the hatchling decided he had enough of this unbecoming treatment he kept being subjected to, and it was now time for a sword fight.

******

"I believe you dropped these," Nyarlathotep smiled at his counterpart's underlings with the cheeriest display of fangs he could come up with.

With satisfaction, he watched as they stared back at him with varying degrees of suspicion and alarm, evidently frazzled by his unusual demeanor. He unceremoniously dropped in their arms the hatchlings dangling from his limbs as he continued, "do be careful where you leave them next time, yes?"

The underlings were quick to grab the squirming bundles, but didn't reply otherwise, still staring back at him as if they expected some kind of trap.

"Was I unclear?" the Crawling Chaos hummed, widening his grin to show off his fangs a little more, while dozens of small eyes opened on the rest of his head to squint at them unhappily.

"No, Master Nyarlathotep," The Reliable Underling finally answered, voice a little strained, but overall steady enough to satisfy him.

"Good," Nyarlathotep nearly snarled, finally letting his grin drop, before making his way towards his counterpart, who had been watching the whole interaction with a curious tilt of his head: if Philemon had something to say about his behavior, he didn't voice it, deciding instead to address something else.

"You missed one," he pointed out, reaching out with the intention of taking the last hatchling still wrapped in one of his tentacles.

"It's fine," the Crawling Chaos pulled his limb out of range, eyeing The Little Devil as he kept chewing on one of his suckers. The hatchling both looked focused on his task, and didn't seem to mind being held by one of his tentacles for once.

"Is that so?" Philemon peered at them with a look of consideration on his face, before letting his hands fall back at his sides.

"I'm beginning to suspect he keeps doing that for stress relief," Nyarlathotep replied as they both watched The Little Devil abandon the current sucker to move on to the next one.

"Does he have a reason to be stressed?" his counterpart's inquire really was lacking in subtlety, and the Crawling Chaos couldn't help but show an amused grin at his evident curiosity.

"Didn't I tell you to mind your own business?" he hummed back, tentacles curling in delight when the hint of a pout pursed his Philemon's lips.

 _Tell me_ , he heard in his mind, in an embarrassingly urgent and demanding tone that he was fairly sure to be the reason why the request wasn't posed aloud.

Grin growing sharp and limbs rumbling in gratification, Nyarlathotep raised a tentacle closer to his counterpart's face and purred back.

"Mind. Your. Own. Business," stressing each word with a poke in the middle of his masked forehead.

The bewildered expression on Philemon's face was a delight to look at, and the Crawling Chaos made sure to memorize it in its every detail, before turning with the intention to walk off, hatchling still wrapped in his limb, gnawing away at his suckers.

_Nyarlathotep?_

_Nyarlathotep!_

_Tell me!_

His answer was to let another tentacle phase to the physical plane and give him yet another poke on his mask.

******

"You've something over there."

Nyarlathotep let several of his eyes close at those words, wondering exactly what part of him had seemingly decided to be in favor of indulging The Truth Seeker whenever he was in one of his hunting moods. The hatchling was sitting on his shoulders, having claimed his crown once again for his own. He always took it whenever he got the chance, but he also always put it back in its place whenever he was satisfied.

"I'm aware," the Crawling Chaos repeated what had become a recurring back-and-forth between him and his counterpart.

Philemon was watching him again with that amused look he had sometimes, the one in which he tilted his head slightly to the side, and his eyes crinkled with sparks of restrained energy under his butterfly mask. It never failed to make Nyarlathotep feel the desire to wrap his tentacles around the other's vessel to give it a nibble with his peripheral mouths.

"Are you having fun, Naoya?" Philemon asked, as per his usual, gaze shifting to the hatchling now humming a happy tune and fixing the crown on his head.

"Yeah!" The Truth Seeker grinned. "I think Nyarla-sensei is having fun too, even if he doesn't admit it."

"Is that so?" the sparks under Philemon's skin gave a little brighter pulse at the hatchlings ridiculous claims.

"Yeah!" The Truth Seeker confirmed, leaning forwards until his stomach was pressed against the top of Nyarlathotep's head and the weight of his small body was precariously balanced. "But I think Nyarla-sensei is having the most fun when Philemon-sensei is around."

Well, that was just rude.

The Crawling Chaos phased a smaller tentacle into the physical plane to give a tickle to one bare foot, making the hatchling on his shoulders squirm and twist in a fruitless attempt at getting away from the molesting appendage.

The Truth Seeker didn't fall from his perch, as Nyarlathotep had made sure to grab the back of his shirt with one of his humanoid hands before starting his assault, but there was nonetheless a feeling of satisfaction that came with every outraged squeak of protest leaving the small troublemaker's throat.

******

The ability to grow eyes on any of his limbs was something that he was sure most creatures would envy him for, if they would only give the potential advantages that came with it more thought.

Case in point: Nyarlathotep was fairly sure The Tiny Thieves had not noticed one of his tentacles hovering above their little reunion circle, it's eyes blinking down at the crayon scribbles they were furiously drawing on the papers they were provided with by The Peppy Underling.

They were all the way at the other side of the room, sending furtive - but not really - glances around to make sure no-one was trying to listen on their secret plan.

The cat plushie that The Tiny Trickster always strolled around with, had been bestowed the role of sentinel and had been placed between the smaller group of hatchlings and the rest of their peers, synthetic black fur shining against the sunlight filtering through the nearby window.

In the time that the Crawling Chaos had passed observing them, No Inner Voice had been shushed down by Serious Business at least three times, but it didn't matter to him, really, because whenever these kind reunions were held, it meant that something was going to "go missing" by the end of the day.

It was a well known secret that Philemon's underlings pretended to know nothing about, always indulging the hatchlings and showing exaggerated surprise in discovering that The Tiny Thieve's target had been successfully stolen.

Normally, Nyarlathotep would hum in approval at their chaotic tendencies and then turn his attention away, but this time the subject of their drawings made him pause: emboldened by their previous successes The Tiny Thieves seemed to have upped the stakes when deciding on their current target. Right there, on crinkled white paper was drawn a simplified version of a very familiar butterfly-shaped object.

There was no way the hatchlings would be able to get close enough to their target with their power alone. Not with tiny feet and bumbling attempts at sneaking around, and certainly not with all of Philemon's underlings stalking them just out of sight to coo at how adorable they were.

The Crawling Chaos considered this, and he considered how much he despised the treasure they were aiming for, and how pleased he would be to see it gone for a day, and so he let his many limbs stalk the building in the space between physical and metaphysical, prodding and stalking in search of their target.

******

"Mona! You did it!"

The hatchlings had just finished coloring in their great heist plan and were about to discuss when they should attempt it, when The Tiny Trickster went to pick his cat plushie up from its sentinel spot, only to reveal a very specific key under its furry body. The rest of The Tiny Thieves hurried up to gather around the black and white stuffed toy, eyes wide and mouths open in varying degrees of amazement.

"Now we can enter the treasure room!"

"Good job, Mona!" the last remark was made by Cat-tails. She was grinning bright and excited, her blonde hair swinging around as she jumped on her little feet, unable to contain her joy. The Tiny Trickster looked at her with a happy smile on his own, and he raised his cat plushie between them while he pitched his voice higher to give her a response from their feline accomplice.

"Thank you, Lady Ann!"

Peripheral eyes trained on the scene, the Crawling Chaos watched as they hurriedly hid their thieving plans behind their backs when The Peppy Underling skipped closer to see what all that excitement was about. She took a look at their faces and their overly exaggerated innocent expressions, and she let out a stifled giggle before pretending she didn't know what The Tiny Thieves were up to, reminding them instead that it was time to go outside and have some fun in the garden.

Heist plans momentarily forgotten in favor of the much more appealing prospect of taking first pick at the swings or the slides, the hatchlings hurriedly stuffed their drawings into their allotted space, before running out of the room with the rest of their peers.

The Tiny Trickster had enough presence of mind to stuff The Treasure Key in one of his pockets before taking off after his friends, and Nyarlathotep privately approved at that sight: if he had to deal with The Truth Seeker constantly attempting to claim his crown, Philemon could deal with a few Tiny Thieves of his own.

When the last of the hatchlings left the room, leaving it empty except for the many eyes watching inside, the Crawling Chaos let the rest of his humanoid form shift back into the physical world, and he made his way to the wall-wide shelf system used to keep their creations safe. Carefully he sifted through The Tiny Thieve's heist plan, peering at the rough drawings as he made sure not to damage the thin sheets of paper with his claws.

When he was done with his scrutiny, he made sure to put them back exactly in the order he had found them.

If the one depicting Philemon with a sequence of question marks on his mask-less face was tucked away in a pocket dimension, then no-one was present to witness it.

******

Philemon kneeled down to gently pry Nyarlathotep's crown from the slack fingers of The Truth Seeker, slumbering on top of one of the latter's biggest tentacles, as if it were the most comfortable of beds available.

It was "nap time", which somehow translated in the Crawling Chaos's many limbs being used as comfort objects by a gaggle of sleeping hatchlings while he laid on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and contemplated how much his counterpart was going to owe him for this insult. Silently he watched as the other moved closer, steps light and silent while he navigated through sleeping hatchlings and tentacles alike.

Out of bored spite, Nyarlathotep tried to trip him, only to see his effort go to waste when his half-hearted attack was easily avoided.

"I believe you were missing this," Philemon hummed, mouth turned up in amusement as he sat on the floor next to him and placed down the crown nearby.

"He wouldn't go to sleep unless I let him keep it," he grumbled in return, irritatedly. It earned him another small smile and his counterpart scooping closer: his thigh was right there next to Nyarlathotep's head now, and if he craned his neck just a bit he would be able to easily sink his fangs into its flesh to rip it open. His body rumbled in hunger at the thought, but the Crawling Chaos ignored it in favor of turning his attention back on his counterpart's face.

"Can you take that thing off?" he demanded, feeling that he should be allowed some kind of reward, if he was going to be stuck there for the next hour, with hatchlings drooling all over his limbs. "It's repugnant."

Unfazed by his wording, his companion tilted his head to the side in consideration. He quickly made sure that there was no-one else awake around, before conceding to the request with a slow nod.

When Philemon slowly took off his mask and placed it on the floor, right next to Nyarlathotep's head, the tips of his tentacles curled in approval: he had always thought that Philemon was at his best when there were no humans around for him to mime, when he had no reason to reshape the featureless expanse of his face into a mirror to their souls.

The whole multitude of his eyes were trained on it, finding his counterpart far more of an alluring sight than any of the human hatchlings currently clinging to and sleeping among his limbs, so he didn't miss even a moment of it, when Philemon gently placed Nyarlathotep's crown on his own head, a soft sound of consideration leaving his mouth.

The Crawling Chaos knew that this thing, this tiny unassuming thing of a vessel that Philemon disguises himself in to make his presence more comfortable to the humans he so favored, was just a minuscule drop of water at the mercy of a gentle breeze, compared to the thunderstorm of a being that cocooned himself with it.

Philemon hated losing control over his emotions: he was always soft-spoken, he was always reasonable, he was always so damn silent. Always composed, always dispassionate, never showing even a hint of what was truly passing through his mind.

There was some kind of pride he took in refusing to show when Nyarlathotep had struck a chord.

But that was the thing: the Crawling Chaos remembered.

He remembered why he had accepted to participate in this little experiment of Philemon's.

He remembered the single instance in which his tendrils managed to sink in the other's levelheadedness and rip through its armor to reveal the blinding cluster of lightnings squashed in that tiny space and waiting just for a chance to be set free from their confines.

It had made Nyarlathotep's eyes bleed.

It had made his body tremble in awe.

It had made his mouths water with _need_ and _hungeR̻ͯ ả̝n͍̆D̳̾_ _**T͙͌H̟ͪe̬ͨ c̯ͮR̲͇̋͛A̜͍ͭ̄v̝̺̎̇i̯̟͊ͧN͔̞ͫ̒G͓͖ͤ̅ t͚̟ͫ̌O̻̗ͯ̄ c̺̫̒̒Ö̪̖͎́͆̽ṋ̘̞̔ͣͪS̖̳͍̈́̃̓U̲̯̟̎͑̽m͈͓͙̔̏̀Ẹ̥̹ͥ̄̍ A̠̜̙̽ͩ̾n̘̣͔͗̈͛D̖͕̖̆͑̿ b̘̥̗͉̀̇̌ͬẼ̺̳͔̼ͤ̈̚C͚̤͔̯ͣ̂̎ͩǒ͚̳̬͎̽̅̏M̦̬̻͕ͨ͗̾̇ȅ̮̖͎̜͒ͩ͛ õ͓̹̮̻͌̏̈N̮̯̗̞̏ͫ̄̍E͈̙̯̟̅́ͦ͐.̪̝̲̜̏͛̅̋**_

It was almost embarrassing how giddy he felt, just remembering it.

Now, sitting at his side, Philemon looked content, satisfied, the only evidence of it on his blank, featureless face being the slight curl of his mouth.

Nyarlathotep's crown on his head shone and caught the light at every and each of his subtle movements. The fingers of Philemon's left hand were absently rubbing one of his smaller tendrils - the feelers ones, not those for tearing into flesh and ripping fools apart - while a soft hum hovered on his lips.

Perhaps this little experiment was influencing his counterpart more than the latter ever realized.

How amusing to think about.

"Lightning Bug," he called and watched with a satisfied grin as Philemon's forehead furrowed at the unexpected moniker, "are you happy?"

"Happy?" his counterpart repeated, a delightful edge of confusion in his voice. "It's unusual for you to be invested in such things."

"When humans are involved? I don't deny that," Nyarlathotep shrugged in return, his many eyes watching the hatchling currently attempting to meld with his tentacles in their sleep, "but I'm asking about _you_."

Philemon paused, his thin human disguise glimmering for a moment as the cluster of lightnings that made his essence gave the query more serious consideration, only visible to Nyarlathotep's multidimensional sight.

"We have never felt much of that emotion - either of us - have we?" he finally hummed in return. He didn't sound off-put by that realization, more intrigued by it, the curious lightning bug that he was.

"I still maintain that this whole experiment is ridiculous," Nyarlathotep let him know, raising the closer tentacle to underline what he was forced to be subjected to: even in his sleep, The Little Devil was gnawing at the closer sucker as if he expected to be able to deal some kind of damage this time around.

The corners of Philemon's lips curled further up at the sight, crown flashing again on top of his head and catching Nyarlathotep's attention, before he reached out to gently pry the molested sucker away from The Little Devil's oh-so-dangerous teeth.

The Crawling Chaos wanted nothing more than to open wide all his mouths and shove the repressed supernova of Philemon's essence inside, giving him infinite space to explode out as much as he liked.

They had always been indivisible, after all.

With careful hands, his counterpart picked the sleeping Little Devil up and went to thread through the web of tentacles covering the floor, until he found his target. Gently, making sure not to wake any of the hatchlings up, he lowered that bite-y brown head to lay next to The Flower Whisperer. It took not more than a second before his tiny arms wrapped around the other hatchling and squeezed as if afraid he would vanish into thin air.

The thought of it made a vicious smile curl Nyarlathotep's mouth.

"If you think about it for too long, you're going to be won over by temptation," Philemon hummed, after taking his place back at his side. To a human he would have probably sounded serene - much more than his warning seem to warrant - but the quick crackles and pops of electricity at the seams of his vessel gave his amusement away: they both knew that if the Crawling Chaos intended to do any damage, he would not limit himself to one human hatchling.

"Come down here," Nyarlathotep let one of his wings phase back into the collective unconscious, leaving a nice space right next to him.

"We don't really need to sleep, either of us," Philemon reminded him - as if he had forgotten - but he indulged him regardless, moving the crown from the top of his head to the floor - right next to his mask - before laying down on his back.

"Your underling's book mentioned something about sleeping with the kids calming them down," he shrugged, letting a new tentacle slip into the physical world to point at The Little Devil, "and that one definitely needs it."

There was once again, a pleased curl to the corners of his counterpart's mouth, and his fingers had gone back to sift through Nyarlathotep's feelers, sinking so much into the flesh that they reached the infinite space inside. There were sparks of electricity leaving the tips, as if in an unconscious attempt to tease him, and they made his chaotic essence churn and boil with hunger and the need to have the endless expanse of his insides filled out.

"You've read Margaret's book about child rearing."

More like Nyarlathotep had touched its spine, allowed the knowledge to seep into his mind, and silently commented to himself that it was no wonder Philemon held so much favor for humans if they took their time to rationalize even the most instinctual of things like raising their offspring.

"You seem invested in this experiment," he offered, "and it's entertaining to watch your underlings squirm in my presence."

"They're not my underlings," his counterpart corrected him, voice soft and amused and some other sentiment that he couldn't recognize, "I just offered them a place to stay. They decided to help out on their own."

"And that had nothing to do with the fact that you are, essentially, their landlord," he huffed in return.

"They're not obligated to help," Philemon reiterated, "but I might have mentioned that it would be appreciated."

The soft curl of his lips that had only shown contentment so far, had sharpened to show the smallest hint of razor-sharp teeth, matching Nyarlathotep's own. They caught his attention and enraptured all his focus, and once again he felt the all-encompassing craving to sink his fangs into the other's face and bite it off to make it a part of himself.

Philemon's fingers were still exploring his insides, tiny baby lightnings escaping through his vessel's skin every handful of seconds as a reminder of what kind of power lurked under that visage.

"Does that hurt?"

Clearly Nyarlathotep was starting to develop some bad habits if he hadn't even noticed The Narcoleptic One move closer. When he turned his eyes on the hatchling, he found that the latter had crawled his way between their bodies and was now staring at the way Philemon's hand was phasing through Nyarlathotep's side, his uncovered eye wide in an interesting mix of curiosity and alarm.

"It doesn't," Philemon reassured him, "in fact, I'm fairly certain he's enjoying it."

There was sharp amusement in his tone, but when the Crawling Chaos turned his attention back on him, he was irked to find that his counterpart's face had changed in an older version of the hatchling's own - blue hair covering half his face and an equally blue eye peering at the small newcomer - and that no fangs were in sight this time around.

He still had his ponytail though, and in a fit of pettiness, Nyarlathotep gave it a little tug with the closest tentacle available. It earned him a curious glance and another, stronger spark of lightning to his insides.

"Humm," it was all the warning they received before The Narcoleptic One reached out towards their point of connection, as if he wanted to plunge his hand inside as well.

Both Nyarlathotep's physical and metaphysical body tensed up, tentacles seizing and only by chance avoiding harming the other hatchlings still resting among them. An instinctive snarl left his head mouth and his mind was suddenly exploding with

_**w̯͍͉̺͎̮̜͎͎̜̔͋͗́ͫ͛ͥ̋ͧ̄r̫͓̬̬͉̮̰̘̳͖̈ͤ̔̈́͒́ͭ̓ͥ͗o̹̳͚̤̩̠̩̹̮͙̐̎ͥ͗̆̈́̾̑̆ͯn͙̻͖̫̟̦͔̞̻̼̏̓̽ͪ̄͐ͫ͗̎ͮG̣̬̹̪̘͈͎͓͎͊̈̓́͐ͨͩ͑ͦ̚ͅ n̮̟̘̙̙̙̱͖̼̱ͣ̌̑̆̅͛ͨ̑̊ͫO͚̥̲̖͍̪̦͚̼̬͆ͦ̔ͬ̾̐ͮ̍̆̓ẗ͎̠̪͙͚̩͎̺̠̈́̐̋̓̋̍̾̓̐ͅ Ỵ͍̦̻͕̮̰̟͔̅̊̎ͫ̇ͣ́͗ͬ̾ͅo̱̟̫̱̹̻̙̺̤͍ͯ͋ͬͭ̓̑̒̓͐̑u̲̟̗̠̮̼̪̦͚͕͆͒ͨ̐ͦ̓̋ͯͯ̚R͖͍̘͈̖͔̘̖̲͍͋ͦͫ̇̈͊ͧ͗ͩ̚s̠͖̠͙͍̬̘̺̈́̀ͦ̒̇͊̈́̋͂̚ͅͅ t̼̦̰͉̞͚͖̻̤ͥ̒ͥ̏͒ͨͫͥͫͪͅH̺͕̺̪͔͙̬̬̼̺̿̽̈͐͌̈̈̈́ͯ͆Ả̜̭̱͖̼̳̱̫͍̼͗̉͆̋ͧ͛̅̋ͬṯ̭̦̼̜̙̪̦̪̱̇̎̇̾̃͗̌͌̍̚'̘̺̤͉͓̗̪̠͖̓͐̌̇̈́͊̋̆̀̍ͅs̘̩̭̦̝̠̗͔̺ͦͧ̉̋ͩͩ͆̐̔̚ͅ n̮̫̞̲̩͔̳̼͖̱ͭ̒̑ͤ̆͌̂ͪ͛ͥO̥͍̤͔̬̳͉̙͖̘̓ͨͪ͆ͭ̆̈ͤ̇͂T̻͍̺̟̻̯̞͈̭ͧͮ̅̌̆ͤ̿ͨ̔͌ͅ f̞̘̦̝̯̬̰͍̱̙͑͋ͦ́̀ͫͯ̐ͥ̄Ỏ̞̩͉̙̗̳̙͎͙̤ͩ̀̍ͬ̓̑ͤ̓͛R͇͖͎̱̼̞͉̦̖̬ͫ̐ͣ̋͆̓͋̊ͪ̋ Y̻̜͖̹̤̬̬̣̮͙̔̐ͣͫ̊ͥ̓͐͗͗o͖̜̦̼̙̖̭͕͔̬̓ͥ͒̏ͩ͋̏̒̋̍u̗͓͈͇̦̩̗̱͎̗ͫ͛̓́́ͬ͑ͤ́͆ T̬̭̜̪̫̻̯͍̘̘ͥ̏ͩͥͫ̊̿ͨ͊̒O̻̦̯̝͚͙̣̫̗̱̾ͪͭ̈̌̔̂̓ͨ̔ T̘͓̤̻̹̰͈͖̼͔͋̈́̿̂ͨ̇ͮͩ͊ͧÖ̼͖̲̠̤̝̯͇̙́͆ͯ̇ͫ̆͛͑̿͛ͅu̫̤͙̮͕̫̻͉̺̱̿̓̅ͤ̑̔͑͒̑͒C̲͔̭̻̮̭̪̟̟͓͂̂ͪ́̍ͪͯ̉͛ͣH̤̰͉͕͎͉̙̞̙̱̏͑̓ͣͥ̏͂ͧ͆͊!͈̮̱͈͚͖͙̯̙͙͌̿̄̅̽̔̍̀̔̚!͎̲͚̺͎͎̼̳͍̦̉ͦ͒̄̉ͭ̿͐ͪ͐!͚͉̞͖͎̰͔͎̹̩͑͑̈̿͌̐ͣ͐̇̆**_

  
  


_**İ̬͚̹̭̱͍͖̹͍̰ͤ͐̏̊ͪ͗̿͛͛ ä͇̺̙̤̫̥̻̤̺̠ͥ̃ͪ͒ͭ̓ͣͧ͋M̰̭̠̭͇͖̪͈̖͎̃͊ͪ͂͆͐̂̾̏̚ Ġ̪̹̤̥̦͈̭͍̣͓͆̔ͭ̊ͨͣ̓̑ͫO͙̗̭͉̮͎̥̣̗͎͊̍̃̀ͣ̾ͬ͒͗ͫi̬̰̫̻͉͉̺̠̖̯͌̾͂̈́ͭ̉́͌͋̂n͙͚̠̹̼̩͈̝͍ͯ̽ͭ̄ͪͬͪ̈͗̽ͅG͔̝͍̺͈̻͈͈̼͛ͯ̑̾̂͗͋̈͌͌ͅ t̮̺̦͙͎͙̰̖̱̖̏ͮͣͨ̍̽̽͐͊̓O̙̻̲̥̱̤͚̥̱̫ͪ̈́ͭ̓͋ͨ̆ͫͯ͊ R̘̫͖̭͈̠̪̲͔̥̔̽̓̒͊̓̎̃̾͆I͍͎͉̣̳̦̙̩͖ͮ̊̋͒̋ͦ̀͆ͦͫͅp̟̥̱̤̪͕̩͇̯͍̊̐ͥ̅̆́ͫͣ̾͑ H͔̳̞̟̦̱̭̤̳̼̾ͮ͑̽̾ͮͬ̋͗̏i̯̞͍͈̞͓̟̱̤̗̅̿̄ͩͯͬͥ̌̊ͤM̩̖̳̜̦̻͈͇̥ͨ̆̌ͯ̍ͣ͂́͗ͧͅ T̲̹̜̯̟̣̗̥̺̘͒ͬ͗̓̀̔̐̉ͧ̔O̫̤̯̙̥̤̳̰̜͛̓͑̋̿̈̒͆̉̂ͅ s̺͎̮͍̪̙̘̬̖̱̔ͬͥ͗ͦ̏͋͌ͤ͛H̹̩̰̦̜̳͇̩̩ͬ͛̒̈́͒͆͆͑̄̎ͅR͉̠̹͔͍͖̬̩͖͊̎̑ͨ̇̍ͭ̆ͥ̆ͅe̳͙̥͔̯̲̳̥̯̖̋̈ͤ̅̓̂̔͐̚̚D̹̣͓͔͎͉̟͎̪̤ͬ́̏̅ͦ͆ͥͩ̃̑S̝̥̩̙̙̲̝̖̠̭̄͑ͩ͐ͮͥͨ̈́ͣͬ!̤̻̦͙͚̣̪͇̠̺̈͋̍̒̅ͤ͂̅̏ͬ!͈̝͍͍̻̹͓̬̺̰̑ͯ̒̍̏̈̌ͬ̂ͮ!̬̳̪̘͍̖̖̼̥̖͋̒̓̆͑͊̓͐̀͑**_

The sparks playing with his insides were suddenly gone, but the _**ș̱̩̥̓M̫̖̖̦ͯa̲̫̖̭̐L̰͙̥ͭL̲̠̤̏̚T̙͍̥ͮ͊r͓̼͍͒ͩẹ̝̇̚S͇̺̐́ͥp̰̰ͬ͗ͫÄ̯̠̂ͣS̝̃ͦ́Ṣ̋͋̈́̊E̜̓͊̽̒R̹͂͗͛̋**_ was being scooped away, and when Nyarlathotep came back to his senses, The Narcoleptic One was being cradled against Philemon's chest, the latter showing a rare expression of disapproval.

"You shouldn't touch people without asking, Minato," he quietly let the hatchling know.

"You said he was enjoying it," The Narcoleptic One replied, no sign of distress at being scolded as he explained his intentions, "I wanted to make him happy too."

Tension slowly seeped out of Nyarlathotep's tentacles, one by one. A cursory inventory of the situation showed that a number of hatchlings had been woken up by his agitation, and they were now looking in their direction with varying degrees of confusion and sleepiness.

Letting his newly freed limbs leave the physical plane, and ignoring the sounds of dismay that his initiative elicited, the Crawling Chaos allowed his mind to drift enough back into the collective unconscious to examine the state of his endless body. He found that everything was mostly in working order, except for a few eyes that were too close to ground zero and had popped like grapes clutched into a fist, and the still present buzzing of his limbs where Philemon's unexpected outburst had sent a shock of energy through them, clawing and burning and attempting to claim as much of him as possible.

The possessiveness was certainly new.

He wasn't sure he had ever seen his counterpart lose control on himself quite that badly before for such a little thing: his vessel still looked as placid as ever, but Nyarlathotep could taste the ozone lingering on his metaphysical flesh with his tongues.

Either this experiment of Philemon's truly was making him lower his guard, or something was decidedly out of place with his counterpart.

Considering he had yet to receive a proper justification to why they were playing house, he was more keen on leaning towards the latter.

When he brought his attention back to the physical plane, he found that The Reliable Underling was making rounds, coaxing the hatchlings to go with her with the promise of singing and more playing. She looked just a bit frazzled, her eyes a bit wider than usual, her shoulders a little more tense, and her motherly smile just a little frozen on her face: she must feel, instinctively, that something had happened in the room, although she had no frame of reference for it.

With a rumble of soreness escaping from the mouths next to his bleeding eyes, Nyarlathotep pulled himself up and crossed his legs, letting more of his tentacles vanish and both his wings come back to fill the new space available on his humanoid form.

Philemon wasn't acknowledging his underling's distress, and so he didn't either, having more interest in studying him than giving attention to anything that she might be doing.

He was standing next to the door, watching the hatchlings scuttle by him with his hands clasped behind his back and his mask once again resting on his face. His back was straight but not tense, and there was no sign on his expression of what he'd just done, not even when the last of the hatchlings left the room and The Reliable Underling gave him a last concerned look. He nodded at her, and she left them alone, but she didn't seem very thrilled at the prospective.

Her worry made Nyarlathotep's head mouth widen into an amused grin full of fangs.

"Don't be childish now," it sounded like a quiet reproach, but Philemon's head was cocked on one side as he said those words, his tone careful and even. There was a glint to his eyes that made his feelers twist and curl with the memory of playful sparks of energy. Slowly, taking his sweet time, his counterpart reached for the mask once again, tilting it up enough to show the mischievous razor-sharp twist of his fanged mouth.

"I'll see you later, then," he hummed before walking off without any further words.

Nyarlathotep watched him go, light crackling again against the seams of his vessel, until he was out of his sight, before shifting his gaze to his crown, still resting on the floor.

As he picked it up, placing it back where it belonged, something wet hit his leg, and when the Crawling Chaos looked down, he found that he was drooling from his head mouth.

******

"What are you doing?" Nyarlathotep peered over Philemon's shoulders to take a look at what had been keeping him busy since the moment he had stepped through the door: his counterpart was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the arts and crafts "classroom", a low table in front of him with a brightly-colored stack of square papers in one corner.

"Yu showed me how to make paper cranes," Philemon explained, pointing at the origami birds littering the space around him while the Crawling Chaos took a sit at his side. Without raising his gaze, he finished folding the paper he had been working on, and with a tiny curl of his lips, he balanced it on the tentacle that had come to rest in his lap.

"He said you'll be granted a wish if you make a thousand."

There was a wistful look on his face that Nyarlathotep wasn't quite sure how to interpret, not with how volatile his counterpart had been acting recently: it might not have been evident to the rest of the people roaming the building, but it was obvious and glaring to him that something had been upsetting him for a while.

"That doesn't seem very likely to happen to us," he pointed out, reaching out to remove his mask. His featureless face as delectable as always to look at, barely-contained energy shining through the smooth skin, and dense rows of needle-thin teeth peeking through whenever he curled his lips.

"It's still relaxing to make them," Philemon hummed in return, finishing another crane and setting it next to its companion. Nyarlathotep humored him and kept his limb still while it was being used as a shelf for the other's craft project.

He was fairly sure that his counterpart had been acting as usual when that whole debacle with The Little Devil and his Crew of Merry Friends reached its climax. The world had been destroyed and the Crawling Chaos had been expecting Philemon to pull something out of his detestable mask to make it right again somehow - it was always like that between them, it was why they were indivisible, although so different in essence - but instead, in the span of the ten minutes they had been apart, he seemed to have gone through an existential crisis.

Nyarlathotep highly suspected that The Little Devil and his cohort of friends were to blame for it - an _d h̙̞̜̹͒o̲̱̥͙ͧW̘͙͓ͩͅ d̟̖͍͎͋Ȃ̤̞̱͈_ _ **R͕̩̪͎͊e̪̪̼͇̐ t̞̮͍̔̈h͖̯̹͊́E̯̹̲̽̚ÿ͕̼͉ͥ t̤͉̬͊̒Ő̝̦͎̏Ù̫̯͈̓c̯̤̀͂H͙̺ͥ̾̈ ȟ̹͉̄̂İ̻̬͐̐S̠̻̊ͯ̚ Ö̪͍́̒̌T̰̝̊͆̑ȟ͓͆̃E͙͑̓ͬ͗Ŕ͇̃̈̚ H̗͊ͤ̅̈a̪̎̊̊ͪL͇̉̾̑̆F͒̂̒̑ͅ!͎̑̎ͧͤ**_ \- but he couldn't be sure, because - and this was the most frustrating part of it all - Philemon refused to elaborate on the matter, preferring instead to focus his attention to whatever this hatchlings experiment was supposed to be good for.

He really should have just chucked all of them in the sea to feed The Slumbering One from the beginning. Bet be damned.

"So, how long do you plan to keep this exercise in domesticity up for?" he asked aloud, when a tenth paper crane was placed on his tentacle, carefully balanced next to all its twins. His counterpart, of course, didn't reply, but his mouth twisted into a displeased frown at that topic of discussion.

"You're going to make the whole multiverse collapse on itself, if you don't put them back in their proper timelines," he prompted again, sneaking the tip of a tentacle under his chin to tilt his head up.

"The multiverse wouldn't collapse for so little," Philemon paused his origami folding to finally address him properly. "It would take a while for it to fracture enough to be unsalvageable."

"And do you plan to keep this up for that long?" Nyarlathotep inquired, studying him.

His counterpart hesitated, just for a moment, but it was enough to be noticeable to him. "...it's relaxing."

Again that word.

_Relaxing._

Nyarlathotep paused, thinking about it more carefully, with the needling feeling he had seen this behavior before suddenly poking some far away corner of his mind.

******

Two days later Nyarlathotep cornered his counterpart again, finding him tucked away in the library, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, and surrounded by stacks and stacks of the coloring books the hatchlings used to pass time. He was slowly leafing through the pages, carefully taking in each picture before moving to the next one, and he didn't give any sign of acknowledgment at being found like that.

It looked like he had made himself a snug little nest, with barely enough space to move without risking knocking one of the piles over, and the sight of it again made a corner of Nyarlathotep's mind give a twitch of recognition, before quieting down once more.

_Hum._

Without a word, he stepped closer, pushing the books aside with a tentacle to make himself enough space to sit down next to his counterpart, their bodies pressed together to maintain the same degree of coziness.

"What do you even need a library for in a preschool?" Nyarlathotep asked, watching Philemon's fingers pause for a moment at his inquire.

"To make new coloring books, of course," was the hummed reply he received as his counterpart resumed his observation of the hatchlings' work.

Well, the building _did_ follow the same rules of that blue room of his did...

The Crawling Chaos eyed the bookcases lining the walls, and he noticed a few of the shelves were now filled where they hadn't been before, the room automatically responding to the need for new books to color and read.

When he brought his attention back on his counterpart, he found that Philemon had somehow sneaked his way between his long humanoid legs, back against his chest, in an instinctual attempt to seek more of Nyarlathotep's heat to surround himself with.

_Hum._

The Crawling Chaos considered this behavior, considered the implications, and let his feelers crawl closer, up Philemon's slim legs, and pool into his lap to wrap the lower half of his body into a secure hold, leaving no surface uncovered. His counterpart gave a soft sigh and leaned back against him, evidently approving of his initiative, his lightning-like essence buzzing to the outer layers of his vessel to give him a light shock of gratefulness, like fingertips treading through his many limbs.

_Hum._

"So, about this experiment," Nyarlathotep started, fully planning to take advantage of their current positions to finally receive an answer to the questions that have been bothering him from the beginning of this whole exercise, "are you going to elaborate at some point?"

Philemon's body didn't exactly tense at his query, but it stopped that fake breathing it usually did to look less alien to humans.

"If the issue was letting humanity be destroyed," the Crawling Chaos continued, letting his arms sneak around his counterpart's waist as an additional measure to keep him there and preventing him from bolting, "you could have just let the kids change the timeline."

For a few moments, he heard no answer: maybe the other was thinking over how to avoid the discussion, maybe he was actually considering how to finally address the issue, but it ended with a sound of frustration and a disgruntled complaint, "...must we talk about it now?"

"I've let it go for weeks to allow you your brooding time," Nyarlathotep pointed out, more amused than anything by his counterpart's reticence. If Philemon really didn't want to talk, he could very easily get out of his hold, but no shock of electricity came to burn his body, so he continued down that path, "I think you can suck it up for ten minutes to let me know what's going on in that bug head of yours."

Philemon's fingers were twitching like he wanted to clench them around the frail pages of the coloring book still between them, so Nyarlathotep carefully pulled it out of his grasp and set it aside, knowing that his counterpart would regret it if he ruined it by accident.

"There is nothing going on..." he sounded strained when he said that, but didn't pull away when the Crawling Chaos removed his - hideous insult of a - mask, laying it aside as he propped his chin on top of the other's head.

"Lightning Bug," he couldn't help a soft growl from leaving his head mouth at that reply, "you called our bet off, refused to give a reason when I asked for one, went completely ballistic when I called you out on it, fried half my body - half my _metaphysical_ body - and snatched future and past persona users from all over the timeline. From all over _multiple_ timelines."

Instinctively, his tentacles wrapped more tightly around his counterpart's legs, a sign of the frustration that he'd been feeling since the start of that whole experiment of his.

"So _you_ tell _me_ the reason for all this."

Philemon didn't exactly _whine_ at his reprimand - not aloud anyways - but Nyarlatothep felt it loud and clear, like an echo bouncing off the walls of his mind, when his counterpart tugged his arms more tightly around himself. He obliged the silent request by letting his feelers crawl their way up the other's chest, cocooning more of his body with warm limbs.

_Hum._

Finally, after a few more minutes of stubborn silence, Philemon seemed to relent, and he spoke again, "Tatsuya punched me..."

...which was not what Nyarlathotep expected at all, and a few of his eyes opened just to blink up at his counterpart in confusion.

"...he _punched you_?" he asked for confirmation, not quite able to imagine the scene without his counterpart frying the boy in return. Philemon let out a weary laugh.

"He sure did," he confirmed, before further elaborating on that point. "After you left, I proposed to him and his friends to make a new timeline in exchange for their memories."

"So you _were_ going to follow that plan," Nyarlathotep mused aloud, satisfied when his counterpart tilted his head up with an amused smile on his featureless face.

"Of course I was."

"Of course you were."

The Crawling Chaos gave a nip to his shoulder with his head mouth, sinking his fangs in the flesh just enough to feel the other's essence buzz through his teeth.

"And that was what upset you so much?" he prompted for him to continue and feeling slim fingers squeeze his feelers in return.

"More or less," Philemon slowly admitted, head tilted down once more and needle-teeth hidden from view. "It made me realize I didn't quite completely like the state of things between us."

His hands were clutching to Nyarlathotep's limbs, sharp nails digging into them almost hard enough to draw blood.

"I might have resented you a bit for being able to freely intervene with human affairs. And I thought that, clearly, the bet between us wasn't working very well for me, if I started to think that way about my other half," his voice sounded uncertain in a way that Nyarlathotep wasn't sure he had ever heard him use before, and it made the deepest part of him rumble in _ȍ̻u̺̐_ _ **t̪̄r͈̈**_ _a͇̎g̖ͧ_ _ **E̹͂**_ _ã̜_ _ **N̺ͨd̗ͮ r͉ͫA͎͌G̰ͪe̙̚ a̘̚n̗͊D͉̉ H̱̩͋̒ȯ̫̟̆W̰̫ͩ̇ ḋ͈͈̌A̤̱͑̃R̬̖̂̎Ė̞̝̎ Ṭ̤ͧ̇Ĥ̙̻ͬe͎̫ͧ͂Ỳ͇̺̾ h̼̹̔ͧȌ͍̞̇W̻̤ͣ͌ D̫̟͕̍̔̚a̩̱̯ͨ̐̓Ŕ̰̮ͨ̇ͅE͎̺̠̓̆͛ t̜̭͕͒̃̚H̜͓̦̋͂̒È͓͈͈̓̓ý̫̝̙ͧ͑ H̯̪̤̓̑̊O͙̙̮̾͂̿w̩͉̥ͭ͛̊ d̤͖̭̎̽ͮă̯͇͖̓̃R̘̲̘̋ͩ̀E̩̝̯̽ͫ͌ T̼̣͇ͫ̿͐Ḥ̠̮̋̃ͣͦͅE̥̟̺̾ͨ̏͛ͅỸ̘̘̩̥͋ͬ̔ T͎̹̙̜͊ͧͮ́O͚̺̣̓̈́͒͌ͅU͓̦͓͎ͩ͊̔͐c̭͎͍̜ͣ̽̽̑H̤̺͕̥̾ͪ̔ͥ Ḣ̼͉͓̤̽̔ͧI͖̙̤̻͆ͧ̔͒S̥̝̘͕̈̐ͩ̉ H̱̪̻̥ͬ̔̒̈́A̮̗̳̟ͤ͑̏͗L͓̖̖̱̃ͦͮ̆F̣͇͔̙̍̀̂̇!̤͔͖̌̈́̀ͥͅ**_

The Crawling Chaos was going to chuck them all into the sea. Every single human on Earth. Let The Slumbering One make a midnight snack out of those frail bodies of theirs in his sleep.

He would not use his own limbs to tear them to pieces, as it was clear to him that Philemon's need for them was stronger than any satisfaction he would achieve by putting them to more murderous use.

"I won't deny I would have appreciated if you had actually explained the reason for your behavior after frying half my body," he finally managed to reply, once pushed his rage back to be let out at a later time, "but I don't understand where the issue is."

His counterpart clearly hadn't expected that reply, because his head tilted up once again, mouth open in confusion, tips of needle-teeth just peeking through. They made him want to push one of his tentacles into it and let them bite it down into a bloody mess.

"It sounds to me like you just acted like a human," he clarified, smug grin bending his head mouth when the other gave a little shocked jolt at his words.

"Oh."

He was now sitting sideways in Nyarlathotep's lap, having given up on keeping secret all that went through his mind.

" _Oh!_ " it sounded so relieved that it made him hum in contentment in return.

"I did, didn't I?" all tenseness had vanished from Philemon's vessel, his essence sparkling and running inside it at impossible speed as he fully took in that realization. "We both came from them, of course we would both end up like this sometimes. I should have guessed."

"All work and no play is not good for you anyways," Nyarlathotep chuckled back helping him turn around until they were fully facing each other, "or so your underling's books say."

Deep into the collective unconscious he could feel his body give a happy rumble at seeing his other half letting go of those fooling reserves of his.

"Does this count as 'play'?" Philemon hummed back when the Crawling Chaos let his feelers slither up his back and wrap around his neck.

"You certainly look like you're enjoying yourself with all these hatchlings around."

"You do too," his counterpart replied, voice gone softer and tilt of his mouth filled with fondness.

Nyarlathotep wasn't going to deign that one with an answer, instead he considered what to do next: there was still a thing he wanted to address, something that he had the impression the other hadn't realized yet.

"I had a thought," he slowly began, letting Philemon's attention shift back on him, "has it occurred to you that maybe the reason why you reacted so badly to that punch, is that you're overdue one of your metamorphosis?"

This was one of the few things they differed in: to some extent, the both of them still received some feedback from humanity as a whole - even in this removed and independent state of theirs - but where Nyarlathotep was a bottomless pit which could absorb everything without any consequences, Philemon tended to stack one layer on top of another, until they became too many to bear, and he had to reorganize his whole essence from the ground up.

"It...hasn't been that long since the last time..." his counterpart slowly replied, sounding just a bit unsure, like he hadn't considered that possibility so far.

"We had a bet going on that had the literal destruction of the whole humanity on the line," Nyarlathotep pointed out watching as the other's skin glimmered with buzzing light. "Do you know what I've learned about humans thanks to your existence, Lightning Bug? That the bigger and more immediate the threat is, the more likely they are to achieve new potential, just the way you like it."

"So, yes, I am fairly sure you are overdue a metamorphosis to keep in parallel with them."

As he watched Philemon think over his argument, he let his feelers sneak under his clothes, suckers merrily adhering to his skin and twitching when prickling sparks teased them back.

It took a few more moments of careful pondering, before his counterpart spoke his mind, "is that why you suggested the bet to begin with? To give them a 'bigger and more immediate threat'?"

There was a little smirk playing on his face, and a purr of appreciation rumbling in his chest, like a hive's worth of wasps rattling inside a jar.

"...it might have been at the back of my mind."

Their bet was always supposed to be a fun activity for the _both_ of them after all...

His answer seemed to please his counterpart, because his needle-teeth were now spread out in all their deadly glory, and Philemon was leaning closer, rattling-purr growing louder between them.

"You're very good to me, Half Mine," he hummed before clacking their fangy grins together in a show of sappy affection that would have made Nyarlathotep shudder in disgust if it weren't followed by a nip to his jaw, needle-teeth sinking into his flesh just enough to feel like a delicious threat.

Suddenly, his body - all of his body, metaphysical parts included - gave a loud growl of starvation.

His counterpart seemed to be aware of it, because he gave another playful bite, before splaying his hand on Nyarlathotep's chest, nails growing into claws and digging in like they were considering cutting holes into his flesh.

"Would you let me use your body then, Half Mine?"

Another, louder growl shook his body, as mouths upon mouths opened down the length of limbs, wanting nothing more than to sink their fangs into him to bite _an_ _ **d̩͎̲͕ͯ ė̙͇̦̺A̞̼͕̫ͥt̗̮̫̝̽ ā͓̳̞͙n̘̠̝̱̐Ḓ͍̺̥ͮ d̲͈̣̒E̩̖̎̔ͅV͈̝̲̽̉o̳̱͓̽ͮu̝̮̲͛ͬR̟͔͚ͪ̅ A̜͚̹͂ͣN̗̥͇̑ͬd̦̰̫̄̿ ṁ͍̱̄A̪͓ͯ͌̑K͕̖ͣ̆ͧė̝͍ͩ̃ t̞͖́ͪ̅H̺̼̅ͤͤE͓͙̔̒ͭĪ̬͉̎̆r̩͖̍̎̏ B̬́̔͗O͉͋͋ͮͪd̩̆ͫ̒ͮÏ͉ͤͥͩȄ͍̉̽͛ṡ̭͂ͦ̚ ȍ̱ͣ͋͐Ṅ̂̈̋ͅȆ̟ͮ̾ͧ!̟̂ͪ̓̐**_

"Whose else would you use?" he managed to grind back, voice coming deeper than anything from this plane could achieve.

When Philemon's tongue snaked out to lick his dense needle-like teeth, Nyarlathotep finally gave in to the madness and the starvation clawing up his mind: his body changed, shifting to accommodate for both their needs, giant mouth with rows and rows of fangs opening up where his chest should be, before he secured his hold on his counterpart and closed the distance between them to swallow him whole.

******

The cons about Philemon's metamorphoses were as followed: nausea; soreness; the feeling of being constantly one step away from bursting into a bloody mess all over the collective unconscious.

The pros about Philemon's metamorphoses were as followed: for the time it took his counterpart to rearrange himself, Nyarlathotep's body no longer felt like it was starving; his limbs were constantly buzzing with affectionate shocks of lightnings; he could feel every burst of delighted contentment from his other half directly inside his mind.

_**mmmmraRlR?**_

The lack of coherency was also hilarious to witness.

_**mmrrrrUnFFmmmmrr.**_

_Go back to reorganizing your plasma, you melted caterpillar_ , the Crawling Chaos sent in return, going back to not-wobbling his way out into the garden.

The hatchlings were busy playing with one another, noticing his approach only long enough to wave at him before being distracted again. The underlings, on the other hand, were staring in his direction with various degrees of wariness, antagonism and - in the case of The Peppy Underling - intrigue.

He attempted to ignore their presence, not feeling like having to deal with them - not when he could feel his limbs ache every time he as much as tried to phase them into the physical realm - but his path was soon blocked by a small bundle made of long pale hair and a blue dress.

"Tell us what you have done with Master Philemon!" The Tiny Underling seemed not to have learned her lesson well the last time.

Nyarlathotep considered how much of a hassle it would be to rip a couple of limbs from her body in his current aching state.

_**unnnNrm.**_

_Didn't I tell you to focus on your body's reconstruction?_

_**mrrrn.**_

He absolutely did not have to clench his teeth to avoid snickering at the pout in that gloppy reply.

"He's fine," he told the hatchling-shaped underling in the meantime, "he had something to attend to and is going to come back in a couple of days. Now let me the fuck to rest, you flock of fussy geese."

The last part was said with more grump than it was probably customary for him, which seemed to play to his advantage, because his tiny opponent stared at him, wide-eyed, and did not make a move to stop him when he stepped around her small body to find a nice patch of grass where he could flop in peace.

Hum, sun.

He didn't usually particularly enjoy the dryness involved, but today the weather was humid enough that the warmth was actually sort of pleasant for once. Light sparkles of electricity ran through his limbs, like grateful fingers attempting to soothe away the soreness from them, and instinctively a rumble of appreciation for his counterpart's attentions left his mouths.

"Are you sick?"

Of course, Nyarlathotep should have known that there was no way for him to just lay there without The Truth Seeker coming to investigate. When he opened a couple of his eyes to peek at him, he saw that the hatchling had crouched down at his side, watching him with curiosity.

"I'm fine," he replied, considering giving him a poke, before deciding that it was too much trouble to move from his current position.

"You don't look fine."

"I'm peachy, I'm just enjoying the sun."

"You don't like the sun."

"I'm liking it right now."

"Hum..." The Truth Seeker paused at his reply, that brain of his spinning inside his tiny, hatchling-sized head. He was silent for so long, taking in Nyarlathotep's current state and lazy demeanor, that when he spoke again it took him a few moments to process what he asked.

"Are you pregnant?"

The soft thump of something hitting the ground reached him after that, followed by a high-pitched screech of horror. "Pregnant?!"

When Nyarlathotep peered in the direction of the sound, he found that The Chaos Godling was staring at him with huge, alarmed eyes, the zebra plushie that he always dragged around having been dropped at the sudden news.

"You're pregnant and Philemon-sensei _left_?!"

Bemoaning the mistake that stepping outside had been, the Crawling Chaos wondered how much it would hurt his sore limbs if he phased his whole body back into the collective unconscious right now.

"I'm _not_ pregnant..." he began, only to be interrupted again when the ruffled head of The Tiny Trickster popped into view, attracted by The Chaos Godling's sounds of distress.

"Who is pregnant?"

"Nyarla-sensei is!"

"Nyarla-sensei is pregnant?!"

More high-pitched voices raised in alarm, followed by the sound of tiny feet scrambling to come closer and see how he was doing.

"What is pregnant?"

"It means he and Philemon-sensei are going to have a kid."

"They can't have kids! They're both guys!"

"So what?! Philemon-sensei is his husband, so who else would he have a child wi--"

After that Nyarlathotep tuned them out, the ruckus having grown to a point that it was almost impossible to make out all opinions that were being thrown around about his supposedly impregnated state.

_**mmrmrMMMPPPFFFFF.**_

What sounded terribly close to a giggle vibrated all through his insides as his counterpart witness this disaster unfold through his body. Nyarlathotep considering answering with a rude remark, just for a moment, but he decided there was something else he could point out to strike his smugness down.

_You might want to re-evaluate the situation before laughing at my expenses, Lightning Bug._

_**?**_

_If I'm pregnant, then you're the deadbeat scoundrel who abandoned me after finding out I'm heavy with child._

_**!**_

He decided that the loud outrage firing sparks of lightning up his already-sore limbs at his remark was worth the additional pain that he would have to bear once Philemon was done with his mental - and still incoherent - rant.

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding tags and warnings:
> 
>   * Regarding the cannibalism: mentioned on multiple occasions because Nyarlathotep is a starved tentacle. It also has lower stakes than cannibalism between humans, because none of the parties involved can actually be harmed by it, and they do, in fact, engage in it on the semi-regular. No cannibalism is ever actually described in detail.
>   * Regarding the body horror: standard Lovecraftian body horror due to...well...Nyarlathotep. There is no psychological horror involved as the fic is filtered through Nyarlathotep's pov, and to him that's just the way his body works.
>   * Regarding the gore: no gore is technically done to anyone, but Nyarlathotep is somewhat descriptive when imagining how he can maim people.
>   * Regarding the vore: mentioned, _technically_ applied, but not described. Like the cannibalism there are low stakes, since no-one can get hurt by it, and again, it's engaged on the semi-regular by the parties involved.
>   * Additional warnings: there is one instance of an adult clearly attempting to kidnap one of the children for unsavory reasons. The adult is dealt with quickly (and traumatically for him) before he can harm anyone.
> 

> 
> Also here have of the titles Nyarlathotep uses to refer to people:
> 
>   * Naoya: The Truth Seeker
>   * Tatsuya: The Little Devil
>   * Jun: The Flower Whisperer
>   * Maya: Let's Think Positive
>   * Lisa: Dance Dance Revolution
>   * Eikichi: Screaming Bellbird
>   * P2 crew as a whole: Crew of Merry Friends
>   * Minato: The Narcoleptic One
>   * Ren: The Tiny Trickster
>   * Goro: The Chaos Godling
>   * Ryuji: No Inner Voice
>   * Makoto: Serious Business
>   * Ann: Cat-tails
>   * Haru: FLOOF
>   * Phantom Thieves (as a whole): The Tiny Thieves
>   * Naoto: The Tiny Detective
>   * Margaret: The Reliable Underling
>   * Elizabeth: The Peppy Underling
>   * Theodore: The Bumbling Underling
>   * Lavenza: The Tiny Underling
> 



End file.
